


Worlds in their pockets and dirt on their souls

by SwirlsOfBlueJay



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Coda, Dark Mycroft, Episode: s04e01 The Six Thatchers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9320687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwirlsOfBlueJay/pseuds/SwirlsOfBlueJay
Summary: The one where Mycroft is the villain Sherlock must stop





	

It makes Sherlock want to laugh. When people like Magnussen and Culverton laud themselves over him; think he’s never come across someone rich and powerful like them, think they’re anything more than a speck like many he’s seen before. He has to stop himself from erupting hysterically and shouting to the world: _I survived an entire childhood with Mycroft Holmes and I’m still here._

*

Mycroft makes mistakes at first; he’s still a child and first attempts are bound to have errors. Nothing obvious enough to garner the local law enforcement’s notice of course. Sherlock and Eurus do spot it though. They go over the problem together, sorting the pieces, figuring it out. They’re shocked and surprised and slightly awed when they come to their conclusions. But they don’t hesitate in telling the grownups.  

No one listens. Not the first time, or the next or the one after that. And there are no clues any more, just whispers in the wind, and truths they understand without proof.

They keep pointing their fingers at Mycroft and the adults just smile indulgently and pat them on the head. Mycroft just warns them sternly to stop their foolishness.

*

They grow older and Mycroft’s threats grow more severe. They don’t believe in the bogey man. But they lock their doors against Mycroft. It won’t stop him but at least they’ll hear him coming.

They’re still kids but maybe they’re old enough that people will start listening.

Mycroft puts a series of events in place which result in Sherlock’s lab partner breaking his arm. There’s no evidence to lead to Mycroft of course. But it’s the strongest warning they’ve ever received. They’re scared. But they never stop.

*

Sherlock and Eurus both think that one day Mycroft will try to kill them to shut them up. That’s not what happens.

It’s a surprise when suddenly there are clues everywhere, bright and wild, too obvious for even the police to miss. Leading them right to the Holmes’s doorstep. But the clues lead to Eurus. From there the threads unspool, leading to every crime Mycroft has ever committed.

Sherlock protests, tries to point out the truth. Scrabbles desperately for anything to be found; any proof. But the framing is exquisite, there’s nothing to be done. 

Eurus is institutionalized and Sherlock is alone.

*

Mycroft puts a tumbler in front of him and tells him to drink. Sherlock stares, weighs his options, and drinks.

The edges feel fuzzy. He supposes it must be a cocktail of drugs, there will be an addictive element, and no doubt something to make him more pliable to suggestion, memory obfuscation, idea implantation. Knowing these things doesn’t keep him from sinking deeper.

One day he and Eurus will take Mycroft down; it’s a promise to themselves to get through this, a candle in the crawling dark. It will be a long time from now, he thinks.

Time drifts in a haze of confusion. Mycroft tells him things, stories, warnings of The East Wind.

Mycroft routinely injects him with more and repeats the process.

Sherlock desperately tries to hold onto the truth. But it seems more and more ridiculous; the concoction of a child.

The adults think his new drug usage is a reaction to what’s happened with Eurus. 

Sherlock no longer bothers to correct them.

*

Sherlock knows Eurus did those bad things. He can’t quite remember what those bad things were. But he knows.

But despite it all there’s a small raw burning instinct in him; he _knows_ Mycroft is dangerous.

*

He shakes whenever he tries to get off the drugs. And his sister is a psychopath and his brother is a psychopath. And he’s tired. And when he’s high it’s easy to forget, it’s easy to not care.

And even though somehow he knows deep down that this is what Mycroft wants. (He’s ruined the only people who could ever bring him down). Sherlock lets the drugs take him anyway.

He’s careless with himself. He’s alone and on a filthy mattress and he knows; he’s taken too much. He’s going to die. They never were going to catch Mycroft.

(It’s a stray thought, a remembering, of a childhood so far removed from what he knows).

Then suddenly Mycroft is there and he looks strange; worried, concerned, frightened. These are not things Mycroft feels. It makes no sense. Mycroft takes care of him, holds him, makes sure he’s okay.

It’s blinking into the new day that the revelation dawns. Oh. Mycroft cares about him. He grins bright. He’s Mycroft’s weakness.

*

Sherlock gets off the drugs. He has a mission now. He remembers, fragments and pieces, and he places them haphazardly together. But he understands enough. He needs to hone his skills, he becomes a consulting detective, to practice catching people. He imagines himself and Eurus as two sides of a coin; himself in the mind of the dragon slayer and herself in the mind of the dragon. They can do this together.

But they need to be patient. They’re not children anymore. So Sherlock waits. He watches as Mycroft becomes the most dangerous man in the world.

*

This is a stalemate. Mycroft spies and Sherlock lets him. Sherlock disrupts and Mycroft lets him. They machinate. They plot. They sit across each other with worlds in their pockets and dirt on their souls.

*

Mycroft hides his amusement. These people, the most powerful in the country besides himself, will not dare stand up to him. Even as he covers up Magnussen’s murder officially and Sherlock acts high. He can afford to act exasperated, and fearlessly reading Sherlock’s tweets is as much a display of power as anything. This is why he does what he does. He fakes just an ounce of fear, just to throw the others a bone.

*

Mycroft always protects Sherlock. It’s terrifying and exhilarating, being the focus of someone so dangerous. But Sherlock’s dangerous too. And unspooling Moriarty was one hell of a practice run. 

It makes Sherlock want to laugh.

Mycroft would never allow such a lack of contingencies that a bullet to the head could stop him.

Mycroft would never speak his deeds out loud.

Mycroft would never be caught so easily.

Sherlock’s still working on it. It’s his life’s work.

*

It’s almost time now, Sherlock knows. It was far easier to communicate with Eurus when he was off the grid searching for Moriarty, away from big brother’s watchful eye. Now they need to be more careful. Coded text messages via John’s phone are as good a method as any. Mycroft isn’t going to go searching for hidden meanings in John’s extramarital texts.

*

There’s a pause over the phone line and Mycroft senses the burgeoning revelation at the other end, even half a world apart he can almost hear Sherlock’s mind step towards the realisation that Mycroft has something to do with it all. And then same said mind deliberately steps away, a move of denial, survival. Neither of them mentions it and a moment later suspicion is thrown elsewhere.

Mycroft would never do anything as stupid and banal as selling secrets. No, his plans are much more far-reaching. A piece of advice here, a manoeuvre there, all to suit him, all to gain more power. Never for money; money is easily enough to acquire with the power he has. Power is what’s of real import.

He builds; connections, and contingencies and structures, until his power is a solid unyielding shield covering the world. When people get in his way he ruins them. And of course on some occasions has them killed.

But he can never get rid of Sherlock. He loves Sherlock.

And people who do sell secrets are useful patsies.

*

Sherlock knows it’s her the second Eurus steps into his flat. She’s always been a master of disguise. He’s careful not to ruin her ruse, going as far as telling her to get out. They go for a walk, outside is much safer.

Sherlock wonders who Mycroft will choose if he can only save one of them. It’s a risk, a dangerous game. But none of them have ever shied away from danger.

It’s a puzzle. The three of them stand in a room. Eurus with a gun to Sherlock’s head demanding the truth. Nothing Mycroft says will be admissible of course. But this is just the beginning. The East Wind is here.      

 


End file.
